If You Do Not Return
by Ms. AtomicBomb
Summary: I now decided to turn this into a collection of FrancexJOA drabbles. On January 6th, Francis sits in a bar, thinking about Jeanne. In the contrary to his thoughts, he meets a lovely individual. Lisa. Rated K for no reason. FrancexJeanne D'Arc. JOA. Angst? Mentions of Wine.
1. Over Some Wine

Francis sat in a bar. He sighed and looked at the time on his phone; 20:17. Glancing once more at the date, he put it back in his pocket.

After ordering another glass of rich red wine, he looked about the bar.

"May I have a glass of wine? Just like this gentleman's." An angelic voice called from beside him.

Francis turned around and saw her- the girl he'd been dying to see for an eternity.

"Thank you." She smiled at the bartender as she received her drink after sitting next to Francis.

"J-Jeanne..." Francis stuttered as he could not believe his eyes.

Was the blonde haired female actually sitting next to him? Was she actually real?

"Hmm?" The lovely girl brought her head up from her drink. A sweet soft smile perching upon her strawberry lips.

"N-nothing... You just seemed very familiar..." Francis blushed. How stupid could he be? Jeanne had died so long ago and he still had some idiotic hope she would be here.

"I'm Francis, nice to meet you." Francis announced himself.

"Lisa. Nice to meet you as well." Her smile grew brighter.

"Ah... Hello. So, how old are you?" Francis asked as his heart sank. Of course she wasn't Jeanne, no matter how much they looked alike- even their voices were exactly the same.

"Oh, it's my 24th birthday today. You," She said.

Another thing in common, the same birthday.

"I'd rather not say my age..." Francis chuckled.

"Oh, that makes it rather exciting." Lisa clapped her creamy white hands together. "Let's see... I believe that by the shape of your body and the look of your face, I'd say you are... 30 to 35. Correct me if I am wrong."

Francis couldn't help but laugh. "27... I'm 27."

"Ah, vraiment? C'est amusante!" Lisa blushed.

"Do I really look that old to you?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, don't worry." Francis laughed.

Lisa nodded and sipped at her wine.

"Happy birthday." He whispered.

Lisa looked at him and smiled. "Thank you." She said. "Personally I don't like it when people wish me a happy birthday but thank you."

"Did you know that saint Jeanne D'arc's birthday is today as well?"

"Ah, seriously?" Lisa looked upon Francis. "Was she the one who was-"

"Burned? Yes." Francis interrupted. He didn't know how he would react if she said it, her voice being so similar (Actually exactly the same) to hers.

"Ah... I see. Yes I do remember her. Joan of Arc, right? Jeanne D'arc as we French say it." Lisa asked.

"Oui. Jeanne. You know... she was very lovely." he whispered.

"It seems that you really look up to her. Is she your hero?" The blue-eyed female looked into his eyes.

"She was more than my hero. She was my everything." his voice was barely audible.

"Come to think of it... Aren't you France? Its personification?" Lisa's orbs grew wider.

"Yes. I am." Francis smiled.

"So tell me, Francis, how was Joan?"

"She was lovely, beautiful, angelic, she was my Saviour. I loved her dearly." He replied as his eyes sparkled.

"You loved her?" Lisa question.

"Oui. On a whole different note, you remind me of her."

"I do?" Lisa's blond eyelash hid beneath her golden hair.

"I'm very glad that you are living a lovely life now." He smiled sweetly- yet sadness lingered in his eyes. He then stood from the stool and left, leaving Lisa to dwell in her thoughts- his words still lingered in her mind.


	2. Broken Hearted

**I DO NOT OWN HETALIA...**

* * *

Francis lied back onto the rich green grass of her grave, looking up at the blue sky. The sun had begun to set and he enjoyed to watch it with her.

Although there was nothing in the mahogany coffin that lay seven feet below him, he still felt as if she was there. Francis had tried his best not to remember the last time he saw her, but somehow it was not possible. Yet the more time he spent around her grave, the more he would feel her presence.

The horrific images of her last breath invaded his mind and he wailed in pain.

"Why couldn't I save you? Please, tell me." He mumbled up at the puffy white clouds. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for not protecting you. It was a simple job, the _only _job I needed to complete, but I was stupid and I didn't save you. Forgive me, mon amour, forgive me, please."

Something deep within Francis bosom ached, he would naturally think it was his heart, but he was so sure she had taken it with her into he ashes as she transformed from body to dust.

The following day, a deep guilt drove Arthur to her grave. Something told him to go. And so he obeyed.

As soon as he arrived there, a silence seemed to overtake the land as a chill ran from the crown of his head to the bottom of his spine.

Arthur's emerald green eyes widened as the lilies he had brought her dropped to the floor with a light thud.

Right before his very eyes, Francis lay curled up beside her toms stone. His cheeks no longer obtained the rosy redness that on usual occasion they would and his blue eyes would not open as Arthur forced the other man's name out his peach lips.

"Francis, you git, get up. The floor is wet and -and you may catch a cold or something." Arthur's voiced cracked.

It wasn't long before the Englishman finally processed the fact that Francis' chest was not rising or falling. He immediately dropped to his knees and crawled to the Frenchman. He violently shook the limp body, of which was cold and pale.

"Francis, don't tease me. Wake up, dammit." The Briton did not want to believe it. It was not true, right? Any second now, Francis would open his sapphire eyes and laugh his head off, yelling a merry "Got you! You should've seen your face! Priceless." But he didn't. He didn't wake up. His eyes never even fluttered a bit.

It was over, Francis no longer needed to suffer. He would join the love of his life in heaven. And they would live happily ever after.


	3. Awaiting For Her

If Francis sat on the edge of the Seine River at a certain time of day on an equally certain date, and he were to close his sapphire eyes for a little while, he could hear her heart beating -just like when they would lay back on the soft green grass after he'd kissed her and all he could hear was the wind brushing against nature and their heartbeats. His had always played the rhythm of a steady drum, while on the other hand, her's sounded as the steps of a running person; light yet strong and fast. That's how he heard her heartbeat nowadays, excited and awaited for something.

And on those special days on that certain hour, after he'd spent it hearing her heartbeat, he would open his sapphire orbs and find her sitting on the grass before him. A sweet smile playing upon her lips and, despite her blushing face, she would come closer, yet right before their lips made sweet contact, she would vanish into the evening atmosphere. As always, the rest of the night was spent in sorrow on Francis' behalf.

One day, on that certain day in May, Francis decided to go the Seine once more. Yet this time, in his mind, he would preform a different routine.

At the corner of the street, Francis bought a bouquet of Lilies -her favourite flower, next to the rose that is. In addition, he had prepared a picnic.

Upon arriving at the Seine, he set the red and white checkered mantle on the grass, finally setting the French delicacies on top of it.

"Mon amour, please come today." He mumbled past his peachy pink lips. There were days that he would come to see her, when he was most desperate, but she would not appear.

Francis closed his eyes and once again heard her heartbeat. _Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump._ He noted that this time, it was calmer and he could only smile lightly.

Francis adored hearing her heart beat because it made him believe that she was still alive. It gave some false hope that on that day, many years ago, she had not died. Her heartbeat filled him with life, it filled him with love and joy, but just her heartbeat wouldn't be enough, _Francis needed her._

After an hour of hearing nothing but her heartbeat, Francis opened his eyes, and there she was. She sat on the mantle, perpendicular to him, with the same smile on her face. The sweet reassuring smile that she wore on her last day as if telling him 'everything will be okay', but it wasn't. It wasn't okay. Nothing was.

Her hair shun like golden strands, her eyes deep and beautiful like the Atlantic. Her white dress seemed as if it were made from diamonds, and her skin so fair like that of ivory. She was truly an angel.

Francis had decided to do something that he had never done before; talk to her during this encounter.

"I've brought you flowers, ma cherie." He smiled.

"Merci beaucoup, Francis." A voice came but her lips did not part.

"Do you like the picnic? I made it all by myself."

"Yes, very much. Merci." A nod on her part.

"Jeanne" -Francis was about to ask the most complicated question as his blond eyebrow furrowed -"Please take me with you. Today. Okay?"

Jeanne's heavenly figure smiled brighter, but it seemed rather sorrowful. "I am afraid I cannot comply with your wish." The angelic voice whispered.

Unlike all the other times, Jeanne pressed her soft forehead against Francis'. He put his hand on the nape of her neck to bring her closer and make sure that this time she would not disappear. While her delicate hands perched themselves on his soft cheeks, she mumbled "Everyone will miss you."

"Jeanne, _I_ miss you." His voice was equally as ghostly as hers. His heart ached deep within his chest and he began to cry. "France was bleeding and dying. _I was bleeding and dying._ B-but you saved me. Je t'aime." He whispered once more.

As they leaned into each other to kiss, she became air once more.

Yet in contrast to all those other times, that after she left he would try to cry his sorrows out and scream his fears away, he walked closer to the Seine, to the point where he stood on a dock, and smiled oh so very sorrowfully.

He dove into the cold rapid current with only one thought; retrieve her heart from the bottom of the lake and join her, in heaven.

* * *

**~Author's Note~**

****To understand why he heard her heart beat at the Seine!** After she was burned ****_three_**** times, the executioner noticed that her heart would ****_not_**** burn... and so as a command, for no one to obtain any relics of the saint, he threw it into the Seine River.**


	4. A Morning of the Bonnefoy Family

"I'm tired. Let me go to sleep!" She yawned.

"Nope. Up! Up! Up!" Francis laughed as he shook her awake.

"Francis! Please let me sleep for a little while longer. I'm super tired." She insisted.

"Fine, only for a little while longer. When I return from Mass, I'll wake you up." He smiled. Before he could tell, she was already up.

"Nonononono!" -She slurred -"I'll go with you!" The blonde awoke in a rush. She quickly ran to the following room and slipped out of her nightgown and into the shower. A little while later, she returned with a lovely red floral dress, of which Francis had gotten her.

"Let's go." She smiled, still brushing her hair and applying a bit of make-up. She then hurried to Francis, who was now finishing the bed and kissed him on the cheek with a small giggle. "You're so sweet. And you know I don't like to miss Mass." The sapphire eyed lady spoke.

Francis smiled and stole a soft sweet kiss from her decorated strawberry lips. "I know. And you look lovely in that dress." He winked, showing his flirty side which she seemed to have forgotten for a little while.

"Why thank you, milord." She swirled, causing her sundress to fan around her.

"Now then, mon amour, shall we not be leaving?" Francis asked as he brought her close, after snaking an arm around her slim waist.

"We shall be." She nodded in assurance.

Francis took the hand of the woman he loved so dearly and led her to another room where a toddler was dressed in a tuxedo and sat playing with his toy cars.

"Shall we bring Mathieu?" Francis asked, facing her. He knew the answer but wanted to ask either way.

"Of course, why shall we leave our beloved son behind." They continued to speak like rich nobles, both cracking a smile. Jeanne walked up to the her three-year-old boy with strawberry blond hair of which she bore. Picking him up into her slightly sun-kissed arms, she kissed his forehead lightly.

She actually loved her son more than herself. His eyes were like that of the deep sea and his hair so gingerly golden. Unlike her, he was creamy white and in all reality, resembled his father more than anything. The same blue eyes, white delicate skin, but Their hair was more golden, rather than ginger as their child demonstrated.

"Come on, we should get going." Jeanne smiled at her child.

"Maman! Papa!" The child cheered.

And with that, the happy family made their way to Mass.


	5. Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye

**Author's Note**

**This story is based on the song "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye" by Leonard Cohen. I do not own the song or the characters. I simply own the plot.**

* * *

Francis loved Jeanne with the entirety of his heart. He loved her in the evening, when the moon lit upon her gorgeous eyes. He loved her in the afternoon, when her armour would shine in the high burning sun. He loved her in the morning, their kisses deep and warm, her hair upon the pillow as the sun made it turn to gold. Francis loved Jeanne.

Francis knew that they were not the first to fall into a deep forbidden love. He knew that anywhere and everywhere a couple of which was not meant to be had fallen for one another. But despite the heavens against them, they would smile at each other whether in city or in forest.

But as their beloved time grew closer and closer to an end, Francis' eyes filled with sorrow. He would begin to hurt and he really could not explain as to why his heart ached so much.

As she was to be taken from his grasp, he knew that this love would end tragically.

"Hey, Francis, that is no way to bid farewell." Jeanne smiled.

Francis smiled back, but his was sorrowful. "Jeanne, mon amour, please know that I will never love another as I have loved you." He stated.

The last steps they walked together brought grief and some regret, yet they both took gentle steps in unison.

_You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me_

Even if Francis wished otherwise, Jeanne was sentenced to the steak and he could not do anything about it.

_It's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea_

Francis should have known better than to think that something would remain in a cruel world such as this one. How are people so heartless?

_But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie_

As the fires lit up the sunset sky, ashes merged with the fireflies that nature had released earlier in the evening. They both flew into the Fandango sky. Now it was Jeanne's eyes who were drowned in sorrow, it was her soul crying in pain.

Francis cried and looked past the crowd into her Glaucous irises. "Hey , Jeanne, that is no way to say goodbye." He mumbled.

Francis loved Jeanne with the entirety of his heart. He loved her in the evening, when the moon lit upon her gorgeous eyes. He loved her in the afternoon, when her armour would shine in the high burning sun. He loved her in the morning, their kisses deep and warm, her hair upon the pillow as the sun made it turn to gold. Francis loved Jeanne.

Francis knew that this was the end.

_But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie_

As she burned, both their eyes exploded with pure sorrow.

_Hey, that's no way to say goodbye..._


End file.
